Wrong
by Hatteress
Summary: Dean knew his brother damnit. So when he said there was something wrong with Sam, there was something friggin' WRONG with Sam. A crack-tastic speculation on the defectiveness of Season 6 Sammy. Spoilers through to 6.05.


_**AN:** This…this here - totally the fault of Poisongirll. This is what happens when she and I get together and start speculating over beer and wine what _exactly_ is wrong with season 6 Sam._

_Crack. Complete and utter Crack. Don't say I didn't warn you :P_

_**Disclaimer:** The boys of Supernatural aren't mine - I just occasionally like to make fun of them…_

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Dean knew Sam - he _knew_ him dammit - as only someone who'd practically raised the kid could. They'd been through Hell, both literally and figuratively for each other and so yeah, there was a bond there as far as Dean was concerned. Something that went beyond blood - beyond family - something almost a little bit eternal (and please lets NOT let the book-fans out there get a hold of THAT thought thankyouverymuch).

So when Dean said there was something wrong with Sam, there was something friggin' WRONG with Sam.

Looking back, he'd known something was off the moment he'd laid eyes on the Sasquatch post-cage. There was an element there that didn't fit - a piece of the Sammy puzzle that wasn't like the others; a piece trying to shove itself into place, fracturing and breaking the overall picture. It'd taken him a while to realise it - most probably due to the years separation. His Sam radar had been rusty.

'Had been' being the operative term.

Bobby had been skeptical at first when he'd come to him with the theory Dean knew, but then for Bobby the change had probably been gradual - little parts of Winchester-the-younger bleeding away over the course of a year. For Dean it had been an all too sudden transition. And an all too obvious one once he started listening to his hunters instincts again.

Cas had been... God, Dean didn't even know. Sort of distant about the whole thing he supposed. But then from the snatches of celestial war-stories he occasionally came out with Dean could hardly blame him for not being one hundred percent focused on project fix-Sam.

Except then he was. Because Dean finally asked it of him. Because apparently all Dean ever had to do was ask. It was something that never failed to make the hunter shift in slight discomfort every time he was reminded of it.

But then, means to an end and all that. And damn but if this end had not been what he was expecting.

"You...you're serious?" Dean asked incredulously, exchanging a look with Bobby. The old hunter's face was as disbelieving as his own probably was. But freaking hell, really? _Really?_

"I am," Cas said, stolid as ever. In his hand was an electric clipper. The angel carried it like it was blessed by Daddy Himself or something - all reverence and celestial stoicism.

Dean cleared his throat. "And it'll fix him?" he asked, trying very hard not to dwell on the ridiculousness of what he was discussing. Stupidly, Cas's serious nod only seemed to emphasise it.

"The taint has rooted itself to his physical form," the angel explained. "The living elements such as skin and tissue were able to shed it upon leaving Hell but the evil is too tightly bound to those parts of him no longer exhibiting biochemical activity. It must be physically removed."

Dean's hand came up almost of it's own accord, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to mentally grapple with what Cas seemed to be saying. "So...let me get this straight," he began. "My brother went to Hell and got the pit-equivalent of herpes...and now he needs a freaking haircut to get rid of it?"

Cas opened his mouth to no doubt further clarify but Dean waved him into silence. It was just...oh god, this was just too freaking MENTAL. "My brother has evil hair," he muttered.

"Yes. He does," Cas confirmed, voice as blunt and painfully stoic as ever. And Dean stared. Just stared. A small something deep in the recesses of his head; a leftover part of the smart-ass, quick-living Dean of the past was practically jumping up and down trying to gain his attention. Because there really was only one thing to do in a situation like this.

And then Bobby beat him to it.

It started as a stifled snort. Then, when Cas turned that stupidly serious gaze on the old hunter in askance Bobby just sort of...erupted. Before he knew it Dean was watching the man bend almost in two with the force of his mirth, struggling to breathe through great, wracking barks of laughter. The sort of laughter that hadn't been heard anywhere near the group of them for...god, years.

Dean didn't even realise he'd joined in with a chuckle until he glanced up at Cas to find the angel's eyes on him, head quirked to the side like he was witnessing a god-damn miracle or something. And for some reason that just made Dean laugh harder. Hard enough to prompt Cas's mouth to tick up in the barest of smiles himself.

And sure - Sam was still infected, still chained up and awaiting their epic cure for his evil but just for the moment Dean was going to relish this - this absolute friggin' _absurdity_. Because in the end he was Dean Winchester - and Dean Winchester could not NOT find this whole situation wholly freakin' hilarious.


End file.
